


Fur, fangs and fear

by Keepoffthegrass



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other, Vampire Sherlock, Werewolf John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keepoffthegrass/pseuds/Keepoffthegrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds himself at the centre of a werewolf scandal and has to stay with Sherlock while it gets worked out. Someone is using Lycan's to commit crime, can Sherlock find out who and keep John safe while also battling his own demons. Please leave feedback, it has been awhile since I last wrote fan fic so it would be nice to know what I'm doing right/what needs more work.</p><p>Now with bonus epilogue chapters!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> sherlock and john, etc, are the property of the bbc, gatiss moffat and conan doyle. i don't own anything except the idea, done for fun no profit made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for squeamish types; mention of eating people and vomiting of body parts. Not graphically described but best to mention it. Characters property of ACD and Moffat and Gatiss, and of course the BBC. Thanks for reading.

Excited whoops and cheers mixed with the smell of blood, filled the air when Lestrade and his men burst into the dingy abandoned warehouse , the centre piece of which was a large cage containing a snarling were-wolf  and the remains of a man.  
  
“Anderson!” Lestrade called to a shifty looking vampire who was attempting to slink into the shadows. “You’ve been told about this-these fights of yours, or whatever they are, are illegal now the wolves have rights! Donovan cuff him!”  
     Sherlock Holmes was staring intently into the cage, one hand resting on the bars.  
  
“Well Sherlock? You said we would find him here” Lestrade followed Sherlock’s gaze to the body in the cage and sighed. “That’s him isn’t it? You never said anything about him being half eaten”  
  
  
“Yes well there’s always something isn’t there” Sherlock replied flippantly, attention focused on the wolf. Said wolf growled, fur bristling as Sherlock crouched down to look it in the eyes.  “I must smell terrible to you I’m sure, but you’re quite magnificent to me” he breathed out, the closest thing to awe Lestrade had ever seen him exhibit.  
  
“Freak” Donovan muttered as she fired a dart into the wolf.  
  
                                                           xxxx  
  
Down in the basements of New Scotland Yard the wolf shook off the effects of the tranquillising dart, changed back to human form, and promptly vomited up two fingers.  
  
“That’s what I hate about were’s” Lestrade wrinkled his nose in disgust. “With you vampires I can just about pretend you’re human and nothing’s changed, but the werewolves are messy…their harder to ignore”  
  
“Careful Lestrade, that almost sounded like species racism. If the wrong people heard you saying that…”  Sherlock tutted with an amused smirk.  
  
“Where am I?” A hoarse voice drew their attention to the transformed wolf who was now a rather average, decidedly short, non-descript man who was shaking badly and warily eyeing up the undigested fingers.  
  
“You’re in London, the basement of NSY to be precise” Lestrade threw him a blanket as he answered.  
  
“Who was he? The fingers, who did they belong to?”  
  
“Our missing person as it happens” Lestrade sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “We don’t hold you responsible you’ll be pleased to know. Unless of course you were there of your own free will. We just want to ask some questions; when you were taken, if you can remember who by, that sort of thing”  
  
“He was a minor politician, just some tory backbencher, hardly anything to worry about.” Sherlock ignored Lestrade’s scandalous cry and narrowed his eyes at the were. “You said who did they belong to, not who do they. Why use past tense? One can survive with a few missing fingers after all.”  
  
“Sherlock what are you getting at?” Lestrade frowned then winced as the beginning of an epic headache bloomed bright above his right eye.  
  
“God why is everyone so slow?! I’m technically dead and I can still think faster than you ever will!” Sherlock raised his hands to the heavens and spun on his heel, long coat flaring out behind him. “Why would he say that unless he knew he was dead? Unless he remembered killing him?”  
  
“Obvious guess maybe” Lestrade shrugged.  
  
“If you thought you might be in trouble for killing someone wouldn’t you try and stay optimistic? Feign ignorance and all that? He recalls the events of last night!” Sherlock stalked towards the were-wolf who retreated into the corner.  
   
“And?”  
  
“Think about the implications Lestrade; the Lycan’s have always maintained that they cannot be held responsible for their actions because they have no control once the change hits them, they say that they can’t even remember what they do, but he changes everything!” Sherlock pointed at the man-wolf, an excited fang- revealing smirk on his face.  
  
“He’s a PR nightmare is what he is. And he could be in danger…Sherlock I want you to take him home, stay with him for a bit till we can sort this”  
  
                                                             xxxx  
  
After the to be expected grumbling from Sherlock about why he had to dog sit, the pair soon found themselves in the strangers small dull ‘home’  
  
“No this won’t do. I refuse to stay here. You’ll come back to Baker Street with me, much nicer and it’s safer as well” Sherlock declared after giving the place a once over.  
  
“Look I know its shit but I live here!” The man drew himself up to his full height and attempted to glare at the vampire. Which may have been more impressive had he had a couple more inches and didn’t look like he was still fighting nausea.  “You can’t just swan in and boss me around. Five minutes ago I didn’t even know vampires and werewolves existed outside the movies! I need time to adjust. Time alone”  
  
“What is your story anyway?” Sherlock asked. “Obviously you’ve been invalided out of the army, but how did you get all furry?”  
  
“How did you know? Never mind; yes I was in the army. I heard rumours when I got out, about how vamps have always existed but werewolves were growing in number so the vamps had gone public to help keep their numbers down” he snorted. “Another reason for me to wish I was still back in the army, you know what the fuck is what there”  
  
“While I’m sure this is fascinating it doesn’t explain your current predicament” Sherlock was pacing around the small space looking into cupboards and drawers.  
  
“If you must know I went out drinking with some old mates one night, fell victim to some pissed off bitch, no pun intended but appropriate, who wanted to spread some lycanthropy”  
  
“You’re a doctor” Sherlock dangled an RAMC mug and quirked an eyebrow  
  
“Yes well I was feeling sorry for myself.” He blushed. “Condoms were the last thing on my mind. A mistake I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life”  
  
“Well we should be going, I suppose you need rest and Lestrade will be round to ask more questions. Pack what you need-” Sherlock squinted at some post  
“Doctor John H Watson.  I suppose custom dictates that I inform you of my name. Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only consulting detective” he held out a hand proudly which was declined.  
  
Doctor Watson started throwing things in a duffel bag with an irritated huff.  
 “You’re right I do remember what happened, and another thing you were right about-you do stink to me. Not just because my only experience with vampires has been traumatic, but because your kind is just not right-you have no pumping blood, you’re cold and dead. Its unnatural” He slung his bag over his shoulder and turned round in time to catch Sherlock’s slow blink and withdrawn hand. Smiling inwardly he strode off.  
  
“Coming then? Those sunglasses look ridiculous by the way”  
 Sherlock swept past putting himself firmly in the lead and Watson allowed himself to grin at his back, acutely aware that this was the first time he had smiled in weeks.  
  
  



	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry forgot to say LDU stands for lycanthropy detection unit

The cab ride to Baker Street was a silent one, with Sherlock still sulking and exhaustion beginning to take its toll on John. He was only too happy when they stopped outside the building and Sherlock fumbled for the keys within his cavernous pockets.  
  
“I thought vampires couldn’t go out in the sun?” he asked just to break the now irritating silence.  
  
“And yet here I am. Oh no wait! I’m burning.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and even John was amused. “Oh course we can, our eyes are just more sensitive, hence the glasses. Come in then”  
   He stepped aside to let John through and went off to hang his coat and scarf on the hook on the door. John whistled low as he looked around in open admiration and jealousy.

“Nice, very nice. Could do with a bit of tidying up but still…have you just moved in?” John sank into an armchair with a contented sigh.  
  
Sherlock narrowed his eyes and spoke through gritted teeth. “Make yourself at home lycan! And no I have not just moved in, I happen to work best this way”  
  
John smiled as his eyes slipped shut. “I’m really tired. Think I’ll just rest here, maybe have something to eat before Lestrade comes…”  
  
Sherlock sighed and bellowed down the stairs for a Mrs Hudson. Soon enough a frail but kind looking old lady appeared.  
  
“Mrs Hudson when you make your dinner kindly make up an extra plate. And tea too”  
   John wondered to himself how many people were aware of the existence of creatures like him and Sherlock, if this woman, who he supposed must be a neighbour or landlady of Sherlock’s, knew about him? And if she did, did he feed from her? This thought and the accompanying image made him retch and heave himself from the armchair in an attempt to locate a bathroom. Luckily the films had vampire speed right as he found a bowl thrust into his hands.  
  
“On second thoughts Mrs Hudson forget the dinner. I’m sorry to have bothered you but you should go now-I wouldn’t wish for you to catch my companions’ stomach bug”  
  
“Of course, but you let me know if you need anything Sherlock dear. Oh and I’m so thrilled you brought someone home!”  
  If he hadn’t been bringing up another finger John would have laughed.  
  
  
                                                          xxxx  
  
John padded out of the room Sherlock had put him in with a yawn. Ruffling his hand through his short sandy hair he went and got a glass of water to rinse out the taste of vomit and human body parts.  
  
“Lestrade will be here shortly” Sherlock spoke to the rear of him and John jumped in surprised shock. “Not gotten used to your senses yet? And you being in the army too…” John turned around and Sherlock emerged from the shadows that hugged the corners of the room, a pale thing that belonged to the dark in ways that John couldn’t understand but knew instinctively, even if he had now become something similar.  
  
“No I haven’t gotten used to it yet, and besides you don’t have a heartbeat. That’s sort of cheating. As for the army I was a bloody doctor not a marine commando” he scowled and prepared himself for a long staring contest until he heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.  
  “Lestrade” they both spoke in unison and John scowled again before schooling his expression to one of innocent politeness and taking his place in the comfy chair.  
  
“That night in the cage fight? You’re telling me that was your first night as a werewolf?” Lestrade asked in horrified indignation.  
  
“Yes why?” John was confused; surely that wasn’t an important detail?  
  
“Because from what I hear the first time is hard enough without having to kill for vampire amusement” Lestrade explained.  
  
“They often take them on the first transformation but how do they know?” Sherlock pressed his hands together under his chin and stared intently at John.  
 “What exactly happens? Talk us through the process of finding out you’re a lycan”  
  
“Well I got tested when I came back from Afghanistan but of course I was alright, anyway I got talking to an old friend from Bart’s about how I’d been careless one night after a few too many and he said he would run some tests for me for on the cheap. He works in the LDU so he checked that out as well.” John rubbed the back of his neck and gazed at his feet as he recalled events. “He called me and said we needed to talk so I went round to Bart’s and he gave me the news that would change my life forever; I tested positive for lycanthropy. Anyway we made out some paperwork and when I left I was attacked from behind; next thing I know it’s the full moon and I’m in a cage surrounded by vampires!”  
  
“What is your friend’s name?” Sherlock asked  
  
“Stamford, Mike Stamford”  
  
“Write that down Lestrade”  
  
“No!” John interjected “Mike wouldn’t do that and he certainly wouldn’t sell me out, we are old friends”  
  
“Everyone has their price, lean on them in the right spot and they’ll pop right open”  
  
“Yes thank you Lestrade. Has he said anything to you about any trouble he’s in? Financial problems, poor health, that sort of thing?” Sherlock pressed.  
  
“His wife has cancer…” John blanched as he replied  
  
“Ah the old ‘I can give you immortality’ chestnut” Sherlock leaned back in his chair looking bored. “This must be a terrible shock Doctor, why don’t you go back to bed, Lestrade can handle things from here” he added as he suddenly sat up  
  
“Yes yes I think I’ll do that” John got up in a daze going through the motions.  
  
 “Any plans Sherlock?” Lestrade  asked once John had gone  
  
“I’d be grateful if you could get me the casefiles of the crimes committed by lycans in the last 6 months, also details of the cage fights-same time span”  
  


“Will do”


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i take so long to update, hope those who read it enjoy it-come say hi, tell me what's good and what sucks. i don't bite

Sherlock mused on the problem of the ‘werewolf who remembered’ while playing Vivaldi. Turning the page of his sheet music too fast the edge of the page bit into his finger. As a bead of blood sluggishly welled up Sherlock sucked the digit; he would need to feed soon he noted, even to his own tongue the blood tasted dry and dusty. Old blood, dead blood, he thought.  
  
“That was nice. I mean I don’t know much about music but that sounded good. You play well” John had padded into the room without Sherlock noticing.  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
John tried to look innocent “Nothing. I’m just in a good mood is all, strange as that may sound considering”  
Something in Sherlock’s face clearly said he didn’t believe a word of it.  
  
“All right fine; I do want something. Tonight’s the full moon…”  
  
“And what of it?” Sherlock asked, a small frown gracing his pale forehead.  
  
“And I don’t want to spend it locked in a room!” John crossed his arms across his chest defiant.  
  
Sherlock shook his head. “Lycans can’t unless their accompanied by an individual willing to take responsibility for them”  
  
“I thought you could take me.” John stated simply.  
  
“Even if I wanted to, I’ll be too busy seeing if any other new Lycans get abducted the same way you were” Sherlock replied, equally matter of fact.  
  
“Can’t Lestrade do that?”  
  
“Can’t I do what? Sherlock here are those files you wanted. I’ll be needing them back mind” Lestrade was slightly out of breath having run up the stairs to 221b, and he wore a serious expression as he looked from Sherlock to John and back again.  
  
Sherlock took the files and wandered over to the large leather chair “Dr.Watson thinks you can keep an eye on Stamford and the popular cage fight hotspots while I take him for a walk tonight. He doesn’t yet know that you are all useless without me”  
  
“I know how to do my job thanks! Stamford requires a subtle touch so you won’t be getting anywhere near, so go ahead and take the Dr out”  
  
Sherlock snorted “You may have some potential but what about the incompetent fools you work with?”  
  
“I’m sure we will all cope; we are trained professionals after all. I’ll take Stamford and Donovan can patrol the area where we found Watson”   
  
Sherlock had been busy rapidly scanning the documents Lestrade had brought   
“Anderson has been found hanging around the majority of the cage fights here. What is he, ticket seller?”  
  
“Not really sure, he’s never exactly cooperative and seeing as he’s some retarded son of a friend of some vampire snooty pants, there isn’t much I can do about it” Lestrade sighed.  
  
Sherlock made a dismissive noise, “Exactly why he won’t talk; you don’t represent any kind of threat. I’ll talk to him soon”  
  
John was getting tired of standing around contributing nothing so decided to get on with his original goal.   
“I’m making coffee and toast if anyone wants any”  
  
“Coffee would be great if you’re making. Black, one sugar thanks” Lestrade smiled.  
  
“January; a member of the black lotus organization was killed while stupidly walking his dog on a full moon, February it was a wealthy cheating husband, March a man with multiple rape charges, none of which stuck, April the main witness in a murder trial, May, a woman who worked for a pharmaceutical company. What do these people all have in common?” Sherlock asked.  
  
“A lot of people would be happy to see them killed” Lestrade answered without hesitation.  
  
“Precisely! We never saw a link before because the only thing they have in common is being in the wrong place at the wrong time; that wrong time being the night of the full moon. The two cases I helped you with bored me rigid because it wasn’t a challenge finding the suspect, and of course with the Lycans you can’t even arrest them because of the question of culpability” he grinned with glowing eyes “Using werewolves as assassins, it’s clever, very clever. Now we just have to find out who is pulling the strings…finally a puzzle!”  
  
“It’s a nightmare! Even when we get the one behind it all it won’t be over. The laws will have to change…the dogs have shot themselves in the bloody foot this time! Not one of them has come forward to say its BS that they don’t remember what they do…the vampires will be smug and the humans will want revenge. I’m telling you I’m taking early retirement, let someone else deal with it.” Lestrade scrubbed a hand over his face with a groan. “One more thing before I go Sherlock; me and some others are a bit concerned that may be having the doctor here isn’t such a good idea, considering your past history of abuse”  
  
“You mean my brother is concerned” Sherlock corrected “I’ve been clean for 18 months so you can tell Mycroft to piss off!”  
  
“Wait, what’s going on here?!” John was confused but it sounded like something he needed to know.  
  
“Sherlock used to have a problem with werewolf blood” Lestrade explained.  
  
“What so we’re his meal of choice is that what you mean?” John was starting to panic a little now.  
  
“Idiots all of you” Sherlock growled “Do you know why vampires hate your kind? If you got over your inferiority complex you would realise you are stronger then us! If you were more intelligent then you could certainly challenge vampire supremacy. You have none of our weaknesses and we can’t even use you as a food source, and not because you have dirty blood as the vampires like to claim”   
  
“I don’t understand” John admitted.  
  
“Your blood can’t provide them with any nourishment. It’s the difference between eating a mushroom and eating a magic mushroom” Lestrade clarified.  
  
“You mean werewolf blood gets vampires high?” John questioned wide eyed.  
  
“Yup and Sherlock was quite the addict”  
  
“So I’m a pot stash to you? I don’t believe this!” John stormed off to his room, uncaring that it was childish.    
  
“Well done Lestrade I think your work here is done”  
  
“Watson I have no intention of using you so open this door like a grown up before I break it down and embarrass you and annoy Mrs Hudson”  
  
“Only if you go out with me tonight”  
  
“Fine” Sherlock huffed “As long as you don’t mate with any bitches or annoy homosexuals”  
                                        xxxx  
John had frolicked like a puppy in the park, feeling alive and young and not even caring that he most likely looked stupid. Even Sherlock had laughed once after he had accidently (on purpose) killed a stray cat. At least John did hope it was a stray cat. He changed back in the cold London dawn to find Sherlock looking at him with an expression he couldn’t read and they walked slowly back to the place John was disturbingly starting to think of as home.  
  
“You ever think of trying to pretend to breathe?” John asked as he watched his own dragons breath disperse in the cool air “You know, just so you don’t give an old person a heart attack one day”  
  
“Firstly I don’t really care much about other people and second, if I wasn’t taking air in and releasing it, which I believe is breathing, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now”  
  
“All right smarty pants” John smiled feeling oddly happy.  
  
                                       xxxx  
Inside Baker Street John sniffed and paused. “Someone’s been here, someone who smells less dead then you. No offense”  
  
“Your right. I can smell hair gel also, and-”  
     “-chewing gum” they said in unison.  
  
They grinned at each other, bright feral toothy smirks of hunters after prey.  
  
“The files are gone, Lestrade will be pissed at you” They both searched the living room for anything out of the ordinary.  
  
“Hardly my fault and I’m bound to get them back. How thoughtful, they left a note”  
  
“What does it say?” John looked up from his inspection of the cushions.  
  
“This doesn’t concern you young one. Let the wolf go”  
  
“Short but to the point I suppose. What does it tell you?”  
  
“Well Dr it tells me that it is a vampire and they want you out of the picture so they can carry on their little operation. Why would Lycans voluntarily work for a vampire though?”   
  
“It’s John. I’m sure you’ll figure it out, that’s what you do isn’t it?” John felt deep in his brain that he was probably supposed to feel a bit worried that genius vampires with a werewolf army were out to get him, but he felt confident that his own vampire genius wouldn’t let that happen. God only knows why he trusted him when he barely knew him but there it was in a nutshell-for whatever reason John had decided to trust him.  
  



	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit shorter then the others but I figure better to do shorter and update quicker.

The next few days saw the carpet take a beating as Sherlock did little more than pace up and down, hands fisted in his dark curls in agitation.  
  
“Not eating will hardly magically provide you with a breakthrough” John pointed out over his own meal of slightly bloody rare steak. Make that slightly dripping steak. “Honestly you look ill, and you smell better when you eat” he continued in his ‘I’m a doctor so I know best’ tone. “Share this is if you want” he indicated his steak, determined to act like a civilized human even though the wolf in him was growling mine mine mine.  
  
“What would be the point? It can’t provide me with what I need” Sherlock paused in his pacing to look at John.  
  
“Bit like junk food then and humans eat that all the time”  
  
Sherlock quirked one corner of his mouth up in a faint smile “Damn inconsiderate of them too; makes the blood awfully salty”  
  
 John laughed hard in pleasant surprise and Sherlock’s quirk turned into a dimple revealing full on grin.  
  
“I’ll eat. Later”  
  
John frowned, confused at the hesitation in the vampire’s voice “I don’t care if you’re a messy eater you know” Sherlock’s mobile buzzed and his attention instantly switched off of John.  
  **Anderson is dead. I need you to get to the bottom of this ASAP! Lestrade**  
  
 “What’s happened?” John asked as Sherlock swore loudly and colourfully.  
  
“They got to Anderson”  
  
                                            xxxx  
  
The next two days were a nightmare of screeching violins and scrawled notes written on any and every available surface. At least given the empty packet of blood in the sink Sherlock had finally eaten John thought as he made tea.  
  
“Is there anything I can do to help?”  
  
“Not really. Just stay here, you’re much too important to go anywhere” Sherlock threw on his coat.  
  
“Where are you going?” John demanded.  
  
“Thought I’d talk to the wife of that man you ate, perhaps the grieving widow was merely a good act. Could be a long shot seeing as how I’m not sure he was a murder victim or just randomly chosen for the fight, but it’s all I have at the moment”  
  
“The man I ate…bit not good thanks”  
  
“Man you killed then?” Sherlock shrugged “What difference does it make? Lock the doors and windows, I’ll be back soon”  
  
   Like hell I’m staying put like a damsel! I’m a werewolf now! I was in the army! John gave Sherlock a ten minute head start before following.  
  


                                          Xxxx  
  
The house was in darkness, clearly empty. Sherlock picked the lock on the front door in a matter of seconds and let himself in. It looked as though it had been vacated in a hurry, furniture in place, a meal still on the table. Only a few photos had been taken down from the wall.  
  
“I told you to leave things alone” a soft whisper broke the silence and Sherlock slowly turned as he tried to locate the source. He had heard about the older blood drinkers and the way they could make a sound come from every direction and even inside one’s own head.  
  
“All you had to do was walk away, throw the Lycan out on the street, and carry on with your life. But no you had to be difficult. You leave me no choice I’m afraid”   
  Sherlock found his arms tightly held behind him by someone who could only be a Lycan; a quick one at that as he found his throat cut before he barely had time to struggle.  
  
The vampire finally appeared before him, small in stature and boyish in face, he swiped a finger through the blood gushing from the wound and sucked on it with theatrical relish. “Tasty. If you survive this, and that’s a small if, I’ll drain you myself”  
  
John saw a short expensively dressed vampire and a big werewolf exit the dark house but no sign of Sherlock. He waited for a couple more minutes before charging in. Fumbling for a lamp he saw a slowly spreading pool of blood, luridly dark against the white carpet, Sherlock on his back hand clamped to his throat trying and failing to stop the blood from seeping out.  
  
“Fuck Sherlock! Hold on” John took off his jumper and held it tightly against Sherlock’s throat. “What do I do?”  
  
“Mycroft. Know…what…do” Sherlock rasped.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for bookmarks and kudos but could someone please comment? i'm flying blind else; i don't know what people are enjoying or what they think is rubbish etc. plus reviews make writers happy.  
> sorry for slow updates, revising for exam, after tenth of june they will be quicker, thank you for paitence and thanks for reading. :)  
> oh the italics is john's thoughts obviously, and everything after the dotted line is the flashback of when sherlock was turned

John fumbled with blood slicked hands (distantly the doctor in him, or perhaps it was even the lycan, noted that Sherlock’s blood was thinner and brighter than a humans) for the mobile he knew was in Sherlock’s coat pocket. Figuring a text would be quicker than the verbal tennis of a phone call he sent the address and a few sparse details to the contact listed as Mycroft, then set about using his jumper to try and stop the flow of blood.  
  
“He’ll be here soon all right? Just look at me Sherlock, stay focused on me”  
  
The words were barely out of John’s mouth before he heard the squeal of tires and a smartly dressed man was swopping in and carrying Sherlock away as easily as though he were a child.  
  


“I suggest you follow me unless you want to get left behind” the man called behind him to where John hesitatingly stood and he followed him into a waiting car.  
  
“Don’t you dare close your eyes on me Sherlock! I won’t let you” the man, Mycroft John gathered, whispered raggedly.  
  
John found himself talking before he had consciously decided to; perhaps as a way to shut out the overwhelming stench of death that filled the car, or perhaps because any sound was better than that desperate voice.    “Do you know about the camel spiders that live in the desert? Big vicious fuckers? Anyway there was this guy, Bill Murry, good bloke, saved my life once, bloody petrified of things with eight legs. I was treating him one time for a broken leg when one walked into the medical ward calm as you like, and Bill flips naturally. Never knew it was possible to move that fast with a broken limb.  So he’s yelling at me to do something and before I know quite what I’m doing I’ve got my gun in my hand and I’m pulling the trigger. I’m firing an army gun at a bloody spider of all things!”  
  
“Making…up” Sherlock rasped out.  
  
“I swear every word is true” John laughed.  
  
Suddenly the car stopped outside a large gated house and Mycroft carried Sherlock to the door where he fumbled with the security panel.  
  
“I don’t expect you to tell me the code to your house, so let me have Sherlock” John offered.  
  
“Thank you Dr Watson but no. Sherlock is my brother, therefore it is my duty”  
  
“How do you know my name?”  
  
“You are in my brother’s life. I know everything about you”  
  


 _Not creepy at all_ John couldn’t help but think.  
  
 Once inside the house Mycroft made his way to the master bedroom leaving instructions for John to bring bandages and as many bags of blood as he could carry.  
  Gently laying Sherlock down on his custom made bed, Mycroft removed his coat, shoes and suit jacket leaving him in shirt and trousers.  
  
“So I thought vampires were immortal anyhow” John quietly asked as he efficiently wrapped the bandage around Sherlock’s throat.  
  
“We need blood; ergo if that blood is lost and not replaced quickly enough of course we will die. Nothing is truly immortal doctor. Thank you for your help but I can take it from here”  
  
“Do you want me to leave?”  
  
“The room yes, the house no”  
  
“All right then. I’ll be downstairs”    
  
 Mycroft let out a sigh and started methodically feeding Sherlock. Once done he wiped his face clean and lay beside him on the bed.  
  
“Rest now little brother all will be well”  
  
                                            xxxx  
  
When John risked taking a peek a few hours later they were spooned together sleeping, or at least John thought they were, it wasn’t easy to tell with creatures that don’t breathe.  
  
“I am awake Dr” Mycroft softly said.  
  
“Call me John. I um just wondered if you needed anything” even to his own ears it sounded lame.  
  
“I suppose I should eat. I’ll be down once I’ve changed my shirt”  
  
For want of something to do and preferring to be busy, John made tea and got out a cup and blood bag for Mycroft.  
  
“Do you want me to heat it up?” John was definitely used to his werewolf senses now, and secretly he was quite enjoying them, as he didn’t need to see Mycroft to know he was there.  
  
“That would be kind of you yes. I normally feed from a…donor but that is rather bad form in front of a guest. The bags are for emergencies and Sherlock”  
  
“He doesn’t drink from people?” John asked surprised as he poured the thick red liquid into a bone china cup. “Here, you seemed like the cup kind. I’ve never seen him eat but I think Sherlock is more the eat from the bag and go type”  
  
“Yes that sounds like my brother” Mycroft smiled “And to answer your question; no Sherlock avoids feeding from the living. He has, how can I put it?, issues with control. At his core he has an addictive personality…”  
  
John was hoping for a further explanation but that seemed to be all Mycroft was willing to say on the subject. For a while they sipped their drinks in polite English silence until Mycroft spoke again.  
  
“I suppose you are wondering how Sherlock became a vampire”  
  
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious but it’s none of my business. Once all this is over Sherlock and I will go our separate ways after all”  
  
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Sherlock likes your kind and you, strangely, seem to have taken to him”  
  
John nodded slowly “I trust him I think, not too sure why though. Sometimes we don’t need to know everything I guess”  
  


What he heard must have satisfied Mycroft for he began his tale.  
  
“It was the Second World War; I had already been a vampire for some time. Our parents knew but I am not sure they believed, but Sherlock, oh Sherlock was fascinated. He must have run every experiment the technology at the time enabled. He never wanted to be turned though. I think for him the idea of life going on and on indefinitely would be hell. But as I said, it was the war and there was a period when things seemed beyond hope. I just wanted my family to be safe and together. Our parents didn’t survive; sometimes people reject the change as with foreign organs, but Sherlock was young and healthy…we didn’t speak for many years after but Sherlock has been good to me-he never uses it against me when we argue or to coerce me, we never speak of it at all in fact. But the truth remains I killed our parents and I killed Sherlock too” Mycroft buried his head in his hands as years of guilt and shame and grief came rushing to the surface.  
  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
Sherlock woke with a start, unsure of what had awoken him and still foggy enough with sleep that for a moment he couldn’t recall where he was .As he recognized Mycroft’s silhouette in the door frame he realised the sound of his bedroom door opening must have been the cause of his snap into wakefulness.  
  
“Mycroft? It’s three in the morning; please tell me you don’t want to talk about the bloody war”  
 Mycroft didn’t reply. Sherlock sat up with a frown “Oh god mummy didn’t send you to talk to me did she? Because I haven’t taken anything for months so you can tell her not to worry. Where  
are our dear parents anyway? Yates said they must have gone away for the weekend but mummy wouldn’t go without leaving a note…”  
  
“I’m sorry Sherlock but I did it for us, I didn’t know they wouldn’t make it” Mycroft closed the door and swiftly advanced to the bed.  
  
“What are you talking about? You’re scaring me My and you know I don’t scare easily”  
  
Mycroft was on the bed, fangs deep in flesh before Sherlock even had time to shout.  
  
“Get off of me Mycroft!” Sherlock clawed and bucked to no effect as Mycroft covered his smaller body with his own.  
Mycroft was surrounded by the clean fresh smell of crisp sheets and his brother’s fear, and the blood that filled his mouth was sweet and hot, so different from his parents. He moaned as he drank deeply and greedily, arms wrapped around Sherlock. As his heart beat began slowing down Sherlock’s struggles grew less violent and Mycroft panted against his neck like some parody of love-making. Sherlock gave a ragged gasp and fisted one hand in the sheets before going limp.  
  
“No” Mycroft withdrew hastily “No no no” cursing himself for his lack of control he searched frantically for a pulse, and finding a faint trace he tore his wrist open and held it over Sherlock’s mouth. The blood dripped down uselessly and Mycroft had to rub Sherlock’s throat to get him to swallow.  
And then he waited. Just when he was beginning to think that he had murdered his family for nothing Sherlock began jerking and thrashing like someone having an epileptic fit.  
  
“Your body is dying, it will be over soon” Mycroft explained as he held him through the tremors and cramps.  
  
“It fucking hurts! What have you done to me?!”  
  
  
 __  
  



	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this has taken so long to update-hope I still have some readers left. also sorry that this chapter is rubbish; my head was still in wonderland I think. need to get back into the fur groove...

John was enjoying being outside, even if it was only in Mycroft’s garden, while presumably he and Sherlock caught up-or did whatever it is one does with the brother who turned you after surviving an attack from another vampire…John couldn’t help but give a wry smile at the madness that had become his life. A wry smile soon turned into a quizzical one when a black kite landed in the grounds.  
   Picking it up John noticed there was a note attached. Standing on tip toes he tried to see over the gates but couldn’t.  Unfolding thick parchment he read:    _Dear Doctor,_  
                                                        _Don’t be alarmed, I only wish to inform you of the facts regarding your ‘protector’. The vampires would have us all believe that it is the lycans who are savage killers but this is not true. Ten years ago I was in a remote village in Italy. I was researching a book, Sherlock Holmes was running away._  
 _I left my notes with the family who had been helping me_  
 _one night so had to head back. As I reached the door I saw that it was ajar; walking into the small house was like walking into a nightmare. Sherlock Holmes had the youngest boy in his lap like some grotesque ventriloquist dummy but he looked up at my arrival and hissed like an animal guarding its prey. I barely had time to cry out before he attacked me. I almost died that night; I managed against all odds to crawl into the hills where a lycan found me-being turned was my only chance to live._  
 _Sherlock Holmes slaughtered a family of five that day and tried to kill me; what difference does it make if it was done out of a cruel streak or an insatiable hunger?  DO NOT TRUST THE VAMPIRES!_  
 _There is a storm coming doctor, make sure you find the best shelter._  
 _A friend_  
  
  
John had only just shoved the note into his pocket when Mycroft wondered out into the garden.  
  
“What is that?” he asked.  
  
“A kite. Some kids must have lost it. Surprised it got over the gate really” he followed Mycroft into the house where lunch was waiting for him.  
  
“How are you feeling?” John asked Sherlock, who looked a little paler then usual but other than that no worse for wear.  
  
“I’m fine, ready to go home but Mycroft is very good at keeping me against my will” he scowled.  
  
“It is always for your own good Sherlock” Mycroft sighed.  
  
“So you tell me. Repeatedly”  
  
“We should take a holiday when this is over” John butted in. “I hear Italy is nice?”  
  
Sherlock snorted “It really isn’t. Full of smelly peasants on one hand and smelly tourists on the other”  
  
“Well that’s me told then” John smiled. “I might head up to bed actually if no one needs me. It’s been mad these last couple of days I could do with catching up on my sleep. Thanks for lunch”  
  
    John tossed and turned for a few hours before finally falling into an uneasy sleep filled with gruesome nightmares.  
  
“Wake up John” he came to with Sherlock shaking his shoulder and a room filled with shadows. Instinctively he shrank away and Sherlock quirked a brow in surprise. “I brought you something to eat. The living need to eat so much…a tiresome waste of time really”  
  
“Thanks but I’m not really hungry”  
  
“That’s not like you”  
  
“How would you know? You haven’t known me that long” John pointed out.  
  
“Fair point” Sherlock conceded with an unconcerned shrug.  
  
“I’m sorry. I think everything is just getting to me; I thought my life would be normal after the army you know?”  
  
“Normal. Humph”  
  
“Why do you like werewolves so much?” John blurted out before he could stop himself.  
  
Sherlock blinked slowly, considering. “I’ve always been different, lacking in social skills…of course now they say it is some kind of autism but in my day it was ‘difficult’ or ‘insolent’. I never had friends growing up and once I knew about Mycroft I became even more withdrawn rather then run the risk of exposing him…lycans are alive and free in ways I have never been and now can never be. I envy you.”  
  
The mysterious letter of warning John had received that morning was temporarily forgotten; washed away by Sherlock’s unexpected and heartfelt explanation. He couldn’t be a killer John reasoned, no more than he himself was-he wasn’t naïve enough to think that he had never hurt anyone ever-but a whole family, children included? No! John wouldn’t believe it. Maybe it was a trap to try and lure him away from Sherlock? In the morning, he decided, he would tell the Holmes’ about the letter, after some decent dream free sleep.


	7. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: slight incest but not really...I wanted there to be depth to Sherlock and Mycroft's relationship, its like a tangled ball of string with a three tier bond-they are brother's, Mycroft is Sherlock's sire and they have an added tie and closeness from blood-sex...hope it works, please comment and let me know-I can always re write it if it isn't popular

“You should stay here until this blows over or the authorities find whoever is responsible” Mycroft leaned towards Sherlock once they had heard John settle down in bed.  
  
“You know I won’t” Sherlock replied.  
  
“Humour me this once Sherlock, you know I worry about you. Constantly. Speaking of which, doesn’t it strike you as odd the good doctor mentioning Italy?”  
  
“Not particularly no. A holiday would make sense after this and people do find Italy attractive. You worry too much” Sherlock waved a hand in a dismissive manner.  
  
“It is my job to as your brother…when I first turned you, I wasn’t there enough. What with the war I was too busy to care for you the way I should have…it was wrong of me. Perhaps Italy could have been prevented.”  
  
“Don’t” Sherlock grasped Mycroft’s hand in his. “Everything that happened was down to my failings. You know I have poor self-control”  
  
Mycroft sighed though he had no need of breath “All the more reason why I should have been attentive”  
  
…………………………………………………………………………  
                                           June 1940  
The unexpected clap of thunder from the unannounced storm rent the air like God’s wrath, making the newly-turned Sherlock jump in the circle of Mycroft’s arms, and rousing Mycroft himself from the day dream like zone he had slipped into as he waited for Sherlock to die and be reborn.  
  
“Everything is too loud” Sherlock whimpered holding his hands tightly over his ears.  
  
“It will get better; you just have to get used to it I promise” Mycroft reassured him.  
  
“My stomach hurts. Everything hurts…I’m hungry…I think”  
  
“You probably aren’t hungry yet but you do need to eat, you’ll feel better” Mycroft pulled the chord that rang a bell and soon the butler entered the room. If he thought it strange that the two brothers were in the bed together, he was too professional to show it.  
  
“You rang Master Holmes”  
  
“I need your help Yates”  
  
      Sherlock watched in wide-eyed fascination as Mycroft used suggestion to make Yates sit on the bed as silent and still as a dummy.  
  
“Will I be able to do that?” he demanded.  
  
“Perhaps when you are older. But then again perhaps not-not all vampires can, just as you won’t be able to turn into a bat either! Now pay attention: your fangs will always be present but they get bigger when we are hungry or angry or threatened…it is imperative that you control your temper better now Sherlock-no one must know what you are. There may come a time when people are ready but during a world war is not that time!”  
  
Sherlock scoffed “I kept you secret didn’t I?”  
  
Mycroft softened “Yes you did brother but it is not my safety that concerns me. Anyway let us move on” he loosened Yates’ tight collar and indicated the best place to bite.  
     
Sherlock hesitated at first, taking his time just sniffing the skin and tasting it with his tongue before finally sinking his fangs in.  
  
“Stop now Sherlock.” Mycroft told him after a minute. “Sherlock!”  
  
Sherlock pulled back reluctantly and looked at Mycroft with glazed eyes. “I want more”    
  
“Its best you don’t have too much at first” Mycroft advised. “Not to mention that good help is hard to find; I like my servants alive”  
  
This sobered Sherlock up and he looked at Yates with as much concern as he could muster for the hired help. “Will he be all right?”  
  
“He’ll be fine. Yates why don’t you take the day off? You look a little pale”  
  
“Yes I do feel a little dizzy…thank you sir”  
                                          xxxx  
  
Mycroft laid down the basic rules to Sherlock before he had to go back to London. He had stressed that although there were some vampires who fed daily this wasn’t actually necessary and he considered it excessive. Once a week was fine, easier in fact where donors were concerned-it was simple maths.  
  
“What happened to your hand?” Mycroft secured his briefcase with a snap and twirled his umbrella with a frown as he surveyed Sherlock.  
  
“It’s broken” Sherlock supplied agitatedly.  
  
“I can see that. How did it happen?”  
  
“I broke it. All those experiments you couldn’t or wouldn’t let me do, I can now run on myself”  
  
“Well be sure to let me know the results if you survive. I’m sure it will make fascinating reading”  
  
“Take me to London with you”  
  
“I can’t, I’ll be too busy working …”  
  
“I don’t need babysitting! You know I hate the country; I only came down because mummy insisted…”  the unspoken _, and now mother and father are dead because of you so there is nothing keeping me here_ , rang and echoed in the silence.  
  
“Fine but you will have to entertain yourself” Mycroft relented.  
  
                                             xxxx     
  
 Mycroft threw his briefcase into the nearest chair and wished he could drown his sorrows in a large brandy.  
  
“I wouldn’t recommend it unless you would enjoy being sick for six hours solid after” Sherlock appeared in the doorway, billowy dressing gown and mad hair and Mycroft blinked twice at the sight; realising that Sherlock looked made for his new life with his pale skin and eyes and easy grace. “Smoking isn’t much fun either” he continued with a small pout.  
  
Mycroft couldn’t help smiling “Is that what you do all day? Run tests on yourself? Haven’t you been out?” he slipped off his shoes and wriggled his toes.  
  
“Not yet no. I don’t mind, just being in London makes me happy. Sometimes I can hear the bombs…it isn’t going well?” Sherlock asked as he advanced towards his brother.  
  
“I wouldn’t like to say but things could definitely be better” Mycroft admitted.  
  
“You need to relax” Sherlock stated as he began removing Mycroft’s tie and waistcoat. “Surely you don’t have to work in government anymore?”  
  
“I happen to enjoy my job. What do you plan on doing the rest of your life?”  
  
“Chemistry experiments while sponging off of you of course. Sit down” Sherlock gave Mycroft a push towards the large leather sofa and slipped in behind him once Mycroft was seated on the edge of it.  
“Take off your shirt and I’ll give you a massage”  
Mycroft complied and watched unhappily as Sherlock threw it on the floor to join the waistcoat and tie.  
  
“Libertine” he grumbled as Sherlock’s long clever fingers worked out knots of muscle.  
  
“Almost done” Sherlock kneaded his neck and Mycroft reached back and patted one hand, grateful that his brother had survived his turning and didn’t hate him, and grateful that he could still enjoy this when so much seemed denied to blood-drinkers.  
  
Sherlock paused in his movements, keeping his hands on his brother but instead leaning down to whisper in his ear.  
  
“I’m hungry…it’s been two weeks since Yates… (He was nuzzling Mycroft’s neck by this point) I need…” he bit down before Mycroft had time to gather his thoughts and they both moaned. Mustering all of his impressive self-control he flung Sherlock from him.  
  
“You can’t feed from me Sherlock! Vampire blood offers no nourishment. I’ll go out and find someone…just give me a moment”  
  
“What was that? What just happened? It had nothing to do with being the wrong kind of blood!”  
  
Mycroft shook his head as he dressed. “Trust me you don’t want to know”  
  
“Perhaps not but I have a right to know!”  
  
“During your experiments you must have discovered that we cannot become aroused? Drinking another vampire’s blood is rumoured to be as close to sex as we can get. I’ve never engaged in such behaviour before…”  
  
“You didn’t think it was worth mentioning this before?!” Sherlock asked aghast.  
  
“It never crossed my mind that you would be stupid enough to chew on me” Mycroft defended.  
  
“I am hungry! I would eat a priest if one walked through the door” Sherlock countered.  
…………………………………………………………………………  
Mycroft returned with a slender blonde wearing far too much makeup. It was the work of mere minutes before she was on her back, Mycroft at her throat and Sherlock her wrist. His own hunger sated Mycroft watched Sherlock, until sensing his gaze he opened his eyes and smiled at his brother, a look of pure bliss on his face. Reaching out at the exact same time they clasped hands, fingers entwined together Sherlock carried on feeding until Mycroft was obliged to flick him hard on the nose.  
  
“Learn to stop” he said by way of explanation “Firstly it is dangerous to feed from the dead, secondly they are not cattle Sherlock; we do not need to kill them to get what we want”  
  
                                               xxxx  
  
Things carried on in this way for a few months; Mycroft would bring someone home once a week and they would share.  One day he came home a little earlier than usual thinking he would take Sherlock to hunt with him only to find that he had done some hunting of his own.  
  
“Sherlock what have you done?”  
  
“It was an accident; I was bored so I went to look at the wreckage from the last bombing. There was a woman, she was wondering around confused; she’d hurt her head. I only meant to help so I brought her here…but she was bleeding and she felt so warm and alive… I swear I didn’t mean to kill her!”              
  
     Vowing never to touch another human Sherlock went back to Yates and their country estate where he developed a keen interest in small holding, buying a herd of sheep and several cattle.  
 Mycroft stayed every weekend and asked the same questions and got the same answers: yes he was coping, relatively speaking, no he hadn’t killed anyone or feed from anyone, animal blood was horrid but sufficed.  
  
“Drugs don’t work anymore you know” Sherlock informed Mycroft one rainy Sunday in 1949.  “I’ve taken to amusing myself following crimes in the papers I’m that bored. Get me some cold cases to look at would you? I swear my brain will make better fertiliser then manure at this rate”            
  
   Ten years, Sherlock held out for ten years in his self-inflicted punishment of sheep’s blood before Mycroft found him next to the dead body of Yates, licking his bloody fingers as happily as a child licking off frosting after making cake.  
  
“Sherlock how could you? Yates was practically family!”  
  
Sherlock jumped up like a scolded cat but with a face like a kicked puppy. “Please don’t be mad Mycroft! I’ve been good haven’t I? I’ve been so good…don’t turn away from me! I need your help My, please you’re all I have” Sherlock pressed bloody kisses to Mycroft’s mouth as he pleaded. “I can be good again I just need your help…we’ll share like we used to in London before I had that accident…it will be fine I promise”  
  
“All right all right” Mycroft nodded.  
  
“Bite me My. I just want to feel close to someone, please”  
  
“Yes yes I want that too” Mycroft licked his way down Sherlock’s throat before biting down at the juncture between neck and shoulder, mixing the taste of Yates blood with Sherlock’s own.  
    Looking back Mycroft could concede that the ecstatic swapping of blood in front of a corpse probably wasn’t the best way to help Sherlock.  
  
                                                  xxxx  
  
                                                 July 1971  
  
Sherlock put down his violin with a smile as he heard Mycroft’s familiar footsteps accompanied by an unknown female. Entering their tasteful apartment, Mycroft disappeared into the kitchen to fetch his companion a drink while she wondered into the living room where Sherlock circled her like a panther.  
  
“She’s prettier than usual” he commented stroking her elegant neck. “Do you mind if I start without you? I’m starving”  
  
“Sherlock don’t you dare touch her! She’s my secretary” Mycroft came rushing in with a bottle of wine.  
  
“Oh fuck! Can you make her forget?”  
  
“It’s all right; she’s my donor” Mycroft soothed calmly.  
  
“How long has this been going on? Share her!” Sherlock folded his arms and glared at his brother.  
  
“The two of us, full grown vampires, on a weekly basis…I wouldn’t risk hurting her, and I don’t want to. She’s mine Sherlock”  
  
“Friday night is dinner time, family time-we always share, mummy taught us that at least”  
  
“Don’t be childish Sherlock! It’s been twenty years surely you can look after yourself now?”  
  
“Fine. Have it your way; I’ll find my own food and my own place to live”  
  
      Sherlock slunk back a couple of days later just as Mycroft had a rare day off.  
  
“You’re blood-drunk” Mycroft wrinkled his nose in disgust.  
  
“So what if I am?” Sherlock shrugged. “I need some money”  
  
“What for?” Mycroft asked with suspicious trepidation.  
  
“I thought I’d go travelling; America, Italy, maybe work on my tan in the Caribbean”  
  
“I think that might be good for you” Mycroft nodded approvingly as he fetched some cash from a safe hidden behind a painting. “Let me know where you are and I’ll send more later”

Sherlock stared down un- seeing at the notes in his hand. “Aren’t you going to give me a proper send off?” he asked.  
  
“Such as?”  
  
“Anything would be better than merely handing me cash, but I might have something particular in mind” Sherlock purred as he invaded Mycroft’s personal space.  
  
“We are brothers Sherlock, it isn’t right!”  
  
“There’s no such thing; just platitudes we whisper to ourselves in the hour before dawn”  
  
“I’m with Katherine now…” Mycroft interjected.  
  
“Your office bitch?! You choose her over me?” Sherlock stepped back, eyes like ice.  “As you wish but how long do you think she’ll last before she leaves you for a man who can actually fuck her?”  
  
“Get out now before one of us says something we’ll regret” Mycroft advised.  
  
                                               xxxx  
  
                                          October 2001  
  
Mycroft was roused from his rest, which truth be told hadn’t been truly restful for some time owing to the fact that he hadn’t heard from Sherlock once since he had left the country, by the kind of knock unique to members of the police force. Tying his robe more tightly around himself and throwing a quick glance in the hall mirror he peeped through the spy hole before opening the door to a man of average height, handsome but with a slight jaded look to the eye.  
  
“Mycroft Holmes?” he asked as he flashed his badge.  
  
“Yes”  
  
“This your brother? According to him you are, but since he’s off his head on Christ knows what his word doesn’t hold much weight” Lestrade turned aside and pushed Sherlock forward.  
  
“Yes this is my brother; I haven’t seen him for some years. Where did you find him? More importantly what was he doing?”  
  
“Brixton; dunno-waiting for his dealer maybe? Since the area is a crime scene right now, not the best place to be seen. He did tell me some interesting theories before the drug kicked in…he’s a smart kid. Tell him if he gets his shit together I’d like to have a chat with him. Here’s my card.”

…………………………………………………………………………  
  
As much as Mycroft would have liked answers then and there, he could get nothing sensible from Sherlock but ‘oh god her face’, so he was obliged to put him to bed and wait.  
  
  Sherlock averted his gaze as he recounted the events that occurred in Italy and which brought him home from his lonely travels.  
  
“I travelled all over the world, angry at you, angry at myself, angry at them…I’ve probably killed someone in every country I visited but they were bad people or old people! And I did try not to; I had periods where I followed your teaching and I just took what I needed, but sometimes I couldn’t stop myself…I wanted more and more. You’ve never killed anyone so you can’t judge me! You have no idea how good it feels to drain the blood from someone. I hated myself after but I’m not strong like you, good like you, I never have been.  
  I hadn’t killed for months, waited too long between feeds…I was walking aimlessly one night when I came upon a home. I fed from the father, killed the mother more to silence her then anything else but by then I was in the grip of blood-lust, nothing more than an animal, and the children…god the children. I’ve never hurt a child before that night…a woman came to the house while I was…the look on her face; in her eye…I had no choice but to kill her too!”  
  
Mycroft listened silently and his spine turned to ice.  
  
“Every time I close my eyes I see the children and that woman’s face-I’m a monster and the look on her face reflected that; she came face to face with the devil that night…lycan’s blood acts like a drug to us did you know? It’s how I get through the days. I came back because I never want to harm a child again and I need your help to do that! Kill me Mycroft please”  
  
“Don’t ever ask me that! I can’t do it. This is all my fault but you will get through it, you have my word Sherlock”  
  
                                         xxxx  
  
Sherlock found some kind of solution by only feeding via hospital procured blood bags and pushing his limits by gradually reducing the time between each feed. He rarely slept, plagued as he was by nightmares, and so spent his time solving crime for the police or more accurately for Lestrade. Eventually he even got off werewolf blood although not as soon as either Mycroft or Lestrade would have liked, and when vampires and lycan’s became public knowledge and Lestrade’s crimes grew darker and he discovered the true nature of Sherlock Holmes consulting detective and did not judge him for it, it was a huge boost for one not used to being accepted and unable to accept himself.


	8. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is so short, I really struggled with it.

2010  
  
John lay in bed awhile, savouring the superior comfort of Mycroft’s expensive luxury beds before getting the day started with the uncomfortable task of broaching the subject of Italy and the note to Sherlock. Calming his breathing, he gave his developing senses some exercise by noting what he could discern.  
  
Old school furniture polish: beeswax and lavender  
clean bedding-jasmine? Possibly house-maids perfume…indeterminable  
light+temperature=around 1 or 2 in the afternoon (he had majorly overslept)  
sounds-clocks, birds, light breeze, usual house-creaks, Mycroft talking- John paused. Should he listen? It wasn’t as if he could help now with his enhanced hearing… To John’s irritation he found that, super-hearing or not, Sherlock’s low rumbly voice made it difficult to eavesdrop on him, so he was forced to rely on Mycroft’s lighter tones.  
  
“….Anthea is very understanding; we have found ways to make it work, but we have more important things to discuss than my love life! The enigma of Doctor Watson…something doesn’t seem right, I think you should let it go Sherlock.  
  
“It would be in your best interests! I fear there may be a war coming…you have to understand how they think; if we aren’t on their side then we are against it-”  
  
 “Politics is your area not mine, I despise it. I refuse to get involved!” Sherlock vehemently declared so loud and clear John had no trouble understanding him.  
  
“You may have no choice Sherlock! If Tobias calls we will have to come”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Tobias Gregson. He is the head of the vampire population of the United Kingdom, he also happens to be my maker…I’m afraid the time is coming to pick a side. Perhaps I was wrong not to involve us with others of our kind, perhaps they can teach you to control your hunger, Italy could have been prevented…time and time again I keep failing you! I failed you as a brother and I failed you as a sire…”  
  
   John sat upright with a start; so whoever wrote the letter was telling the truth, Sherlock had committed dark acts in Italy! And now here they were talking about war and automatically taking the side of their undead brethren! John threw open the window and looked down to gauge the distance. He realised now he was a fool to think he could get protection from the vampires, only with his own kind would he be safe.  
  
“What was that noise?” Sherlock asked “It sounded like something falling from a window”  
  
“Like a certain lycan army doctor I would wager” Mycroft replied coolly.  
  
“Fuck!” Sherlock got up and made for the door but Mycroft stopped him.  
  
“It is for the best Sherlock, you couldn’t keep him forever. I know you liked him and he was starting to trust you, but at the end of the day it can never work. Please believe me”  
  
   Sherlock opened his mouth to reply but was silenced by the words that echoed in the room; a voice and aural trick he now knew well.  
  
“Open up little mice so I can cut off your threads”


	9. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I still have some readers left, I really am sorry it has taken me so long to update...
> 
> in 1653 a pastor in vaud said werewolves were purely an illusion .  
> in 1584 Reginald scott said lycanthropia is a disease and not a transformation. yeah I realise that could be interpretated two ways but meh

“Don’t be an uncouth Irishman Moriarty; knock on the door like a decent chap” a refined lightly accented voice scolded.  
  
Behind Sherlock Mycroft muttered Tobias in muted tones before whispering earnest words of advice in Sherlock’s ear; “Whatever he says we agree, whatever he wants we do, and do not, I repeat, do not let them read your thoughts! Make your mind blank Sherlock…I will do what I can to keep you safe” Mycroft squeezed his hand briefly before going to the door.  
  
  “My lord I was on my way to you, but my brother was attacked…”  
  
“I know you were; I know when my children think of me and I come like a good parent. Please my dear Mycroft call me Tobias” he patted Mycroft’s cheek with fatherly affectation before following Moriarty into the living room.  
  
“Hello sexy” Moriarty grinned broadly at Sherlock who hissed like a cat.  
  
“You almost killed me!” Sherlock made a step forward but Mycroft blocked his path and Tobias stood in front of Moriarty.  
  
“I’m glad you survived” he winked.   
“Please accept my apologies; James was acting on my orders but if I had known it was Mycroft’s brother protecting the pup we would have acted differently. But never mind, no permanent harm has been done and we don’t need the lycan anymore” Tobias smiled warmly.  
  
“Which is well as I’m afraid we seem to have lost him” Mycroft confessed.  
  
“We’ll get him eventually, one way or another” James Moriarty promised darkly.  
  
“Let me get a good look at you; Sherlock isn’t it? Mycroft has been selfish keeping you away from the family” Tobias held Sherlock’s chin in one cold hand, turning his face to the light. As tall as Sherlock was Tobias was taller and he found himself frantically imagining a brick wall as Gregson’s dark eyes seemed to burrow into his innermost thoughts. The older vampire released him with a curious unreadable smile.  
  
“Time to go home; we have much to talk about and you have much to learn”  
  
                                                                        xxxx  
  
“You will have to be blindfolded; very few know the exact location of our stronghold” Tobias gestured to Moriarty who tied a piece of black silk around Sherlock’s eyes before petting his hair, causing Sherlock to violently jerk back and Mycroft to grab Moriarty’s arm in a steel grip.  
  
“I know you have a liking for pretty things, but I think it might be best to get permission from both Holmes’ before you touch the younger” Tobias chuckled.  
  
  ……………………………………………………………………………………………………...  
  
Once inside the place it was like a cross between a cathedral and a country mansion and Sherlock was about to start racking his brains for a possible location when he caught Mycroft’s miniscule shake of the head.  
  
 Only once they were settled, warm fresh blood in delicate cups, would Tobias deign to talk.  
  
“Throughout history mankind has never had any trouble believing in us, fearing and respecting us as is our due. The lycans however are another matter; they have never been considered beings in their own right, existing either through witchcraft, or as the product of mental illness-a fact which never ceases to amaze me considering how backward humans were then in every other way! Isn’t that right Moriarty?”  
  
“Fascinating Tobias” Moriarty agreed, more interested in trying to get a reaction from Sherlock by licking blood from his finger in a reminder of their last meeting.  
  
“As such it has never been difficult co-existing with them and maintaining our place at the top, especially during the witch trials… but sadly times have changed. Do you know why there are so many of the dogs now?  The Russian mafia! Can you believe it? Of course they couldn’t control them, they were fools to think they could, and so we did our duty and stepped out of the shadows to help the humans”  
  
“Help them” Moriarty echoed.  
  
“I’ve never really understood that” Sherlock admitted.  
  
“That’s because you and your brother haven’t been part of us. It’s simple really; people want to live and we need people to live, too many curs running around in their filthy packs killing and turning everyone in sight upsets the balance. The British government understood this, early talks were going well until a little bitch by the name of Irene Adler infected the prime minister’s nephew! Before you could say fleas, talk went from reservations to rights”  
  
“I don’t understand-” Sherlock started.  
Tobias held up a hand “James could you please answer Sherlock’s questions somewhere else? I need to talk to Mycroft”  
  
“Come, I’ll show you your room” Moriarty smoothed out a crease in his suit before fishing out a packet of gum.  
  
“I am not staying here!”  
  
“Sherlock!” Mycroft admonished “I apologise for my brother, he is…”  
  
“No need to explain my dear Mycroft, not everyone is born perfect and becoming a vampire doesn’t solve all our problems. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for you caring for him alone…you should have come to us sooner”  
  
Mycroft bowed his head “I realise that now. Forgive me”  
  
Sherlock gritted his teeth for a moment “What I meant is I have a home; I don’t want to infringe on your hospitality”  
  
“Not at all, it will be my pleasure. Consider this your home for a while at least”  
Sherlock nodded stiffly then followed Moriarty through the long marble-floored hallway. As he tried to quell his rising anxiety he realised with a start what the hint of an accent Tobias spoke with was. It was Italian.  
  



	10. 10

John had just left Baker Street with his belongings, and yes alright a few that weren’t his, but it was just money and it wasn’t like Sherlock was short on that front, and was making his way to the train station when he felt it. Eyes watching him making the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his spine snap rigid, muscles all tensed to fight or flee.   
  
“Easy doctor, I’m a friend” a cool educated female voice spoke placing emphasis on friend and John remembered the letter he received warning him about Sherlock.   
  
“You’ve had me watched, followed” he replied. “Bit creepy”  
  
“Hasn’t your whole life become a bit weird and creepy lately?” she laughed as she stepped from the shadows. John swallowed hard at the sight of her; dark hair artistically pinned up and blood red lips and nails made her look like her a sexy secretary from a Raymond Chandler novel.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
Being welcomed into a group of werewolves was rather like being with mates down the pub John thought with an easy smile that Irene returned.   
  
“Quiet down everyone!” Irene addressed the crowd, clearly the alpha female. “I think I speak for us all when I wish John Watson a warm welcome. Vampires would have us consigned to the footnotes of history with their fear and their greed and their lies, but we won’t let that happen will we?”  
  
“No!”  
  
“A vampire almost killed me and it was a lycan that saved me! Our compassion, our humanity, makes us strong! what feelings can a corpse have?”  
  
“None!”  
  
“They think us nothing more than dumb animals and we will use that to our advantage. The day is coming when they will underestimate us no more”  
  
“Vampires are the enemy!” they howled in unison banging their glasses on the table.  
  
“Will you join us John Watson? Will you fight alongside us for our freedom and our survival?”  
  
“I will”  
  
As Irene took him to her bed, her alpha male clearly chosen, John felt at home.


	11. 11

Sherlock was pacing the floor of his new ‘room’ when Tobias paid him a visit. He stilled his movements right away and tried to look as though he wasn’t exceedingly pissed off.  
  
“I thought I would see if you needed anything. Room to your liking?” Tobias pleasantly inquired.  
  
“Where’s my brother?”  
  
“Mycroft is doing a job for me; you’ll see him soon enough” Tobias reassured “I’ll have someone bring you some food, it wasn’t long ago you almost died; you need to build your strength up”  
  
Sherlock shook his head hard “I don’t eat much, it slows my thinking and Mycroft says we don’t have to feed every day”  
  
Tobias shrugged “We don’t need to to survive but we grow stronger if we do. Mycroft was probably thinking of his weight”  
  
Sherlock couldn’t help but smile at that “I don’t feed on people” he informed Gregson.  
  
“As you wish, I’ll have it brought up”  
                                                                                 xxxx  
“Tobias wants to see you” Moriarty informed Sherlock one day as he casually let himself into the room. “You are allowed to leave your room you know; I choose you a good one though didn't I?” he smirked as he made his way to the baby piano that stood cluttering up a corner.  
Sitting down he cracked his knuckles before playing and singing “I am the very model of a modern major general, I have knowledge in both animal, vegetable and mineral...”  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes at the display “What does he want to see me for?”  
  
“Don't know” he shrugged.  
….................................................................................................................................................................................  
“There you are at last; I need you to do me a little favour Sherlock” Tobias looked up from filing his nails and addressed Sherlock as Moriarty took a seat next to him.  
  
“I can't imagine how I can possibly help you”  
  
“By proving yourself of course” Tobias smiled “We know you seem to have some...affection, for the dogs and that you were harbouring Doctor Watson...”  
  
“I was not 'harbouring' him; I was merely doing what the police wanted in my role as a consulting detective! He....”  
  
Tobias cut his explanation off “Yes you work with the police-that could be very useful to us; a trustworthy public face...well anyway you cut it the situation is the same. You have to show us that your sympathies are not with the lycans. You see that cage there? I want you to get in it”  
  
“And if I refuse?”  
  
“You can either walk in with your dignity like a man, or I will carry you in myself”  
  
What could he do? Naturally Sherlock walked in. Once he had done so another man was pushed into the cage and Sherlock realised that it was the first night of the full moon and it became apparent what Tobias expected of him. As the pure moons beams shone down upon the man and he began to change, somebody threw a knife into the cage at Sherlock's feet. As the knife clattered to the ground both Sherlock and the now transformed man turned to the sound. Sherlock lunged for it and the beast howled and swiped a massive paw , opening a deep gash on Sherlock's face. Hissing in return, Sherlock crouched  and the beast hunkered down on his hind legs preparing to leap-which really wasn't the wisest choice Sherlock reflected as he thrust the knife into its heart.  
  
“I am not here for your entertainment!” he spat out the words as he faced Tobias through the bars, silvery eyes flashing. “Wait until Mycroft hears about this...”  
  
“You need to learn to stop hiding behind your brother little one; turn that rage on the cage...”  
While they had been talking another wolf had been brought into the cage; while the other one may have been dumb this one was not, and he wasted no time in backing Sherlock into a corner and standing on his back legs to growl menacingly into his face.  
  
“Tobias!” Moriarty exclaimed.  
  
“Wait James” Tobias raised a hand clearly saying the topic was not up for discussion.  
  
Intimidation achieved, the wolf was now pushing Sherlock towards the centre of the cage , either by nudging with his large head or using his paws. Sherlock tightened his grip on the knife but it was impossible to get a good angle. Once in the centre the wolf trotted away then charged back, using its head and upper body like a battering ram to toss Sherlock across the cage. A chorus of oohs rippled around the vampires as the audible crack of broken bones was heard and the knife went flying out of Sherlock's hand. An almost-smile could be seen on the elongated muzzle at the sound and the wolf leapt on to Sherlock's body before he had a chance to get up.  
  
“Tobias! Are you trying to get him killed?” Moriarty cried. Tobias spoke to someone and another knife was thrown in, aimed well, landing near Sherlock's hand.  
  
Quickly snatching the weapon up Sherlock wasted no time in plunging the knife into the wolf's eye; once it was howling in pain and rage he pulled it out and stabbed up into its skull through the roof of its mouth. As the creature collapsed on him, Sherlock dimly registered that all the vampires were clapping and cheering before the corpse was dragged off and Moriarty picked him up.  
  
“Congratulations little one. Moriarty, clean him up and look after him until he is healed”  
….................................................................................................................................................................................  
Moriarty laid Sherlock on the bed and licked the blood from his cheek before cleaning the teeth wounds on his hands.  
  
“Feel like I've been run over by a tank” Sherlock moaned.  
  
“Not quite; you do have some broken ribs though” Moriarty replied. “I'll get you some food then you should rest” he added.  
  
“Bags, I don't drink blood from people....”  
  
“Got it” Moriarty shook his head in incredulous amusement before kissing some lycan blood of off Sherlock's lips; to his surprise Sherlock kissed him back .  
  
 _He must have swallowed some of it_ Moriarty mused, _and doesn't that give me ideas._

 


	12. 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I take a long time to update, life gets in the way of fun you know? and i'm really sorry this chapter stinks! it didn't turn out how I hoped...still chapter 13 is the one I've been excited about for ages so hopefully that will rock lol. thanks to those who are reading and who have left kudos and comments, I really do appreciate it x
> 
> top of the food chain comes from blade, sealing a vampire up in a box in the dark comes from interview with the vampire, fang banger is tru blood I think, I've never seen it

“Did you notice how they all cheered Sherlock? Do you understand why I made you do it?  ; the others would not accept you if you had not” Tobias explained calmly a few days after he had made Sherlock kill two lycans on a full moon night.  
  
  
“If you say so” Sherlock shrugged.  
  
  
Tobias sighed theatrically “Is Moriarty taking good care of you?”  
  
  
“Yes actually, surprisingly” Sherlock was forced to admit.  
  
  
“Good. I am glad the two of you are getting on. Perhaps you may even leave your room soon?”  
  
Tobias passed Moriarty in the hallway and stopped him with a request; to find out what Sherlock feared.  
  
  
“Come again?” Moriarty asked.  
  
  
“I have some lessons for Sherlock and not having a carrot I've chosen the stick”                                                               
…......................................................................................................................................................  
  
“I've brought some food” Moriarty smiled.  
  
“Please no more; I don't think eating every day agrees with me” Sherlock groaned.

  
“Maybe you would like something else?” Moriarty held up a syringe with a wink.  
  
“No! I don't use any more!” Sherlock protested .  
  
“You can flash those fangs all you want kitten, the truth is you can't fight me; you are a mere baby compared to me!” Moriarty explained amused as he slid the needle in. As the werewolf blood filled his veins Sherlock flopped like a languid ragdoll.  
  
“That's better” Moriarty nodded “lets just relax and have some fun”  
  
“Your eyes...there so... dark!” Sherlock giggled.  
  
“Just like my heart. Now shall we take this off?” Moriarty slipped the buttons through on Sherlock's shirt and slid it down, taking a moment to feast on the exposed skin with his eyes before sinking in his fangs and drawing blood.  
Moriarty continued to place bites over Sherlock's skin before claiming his mouth in a kiss as fierce as his bites.  
  
“Delicious. You're mine now and I won't let you go. Bite me Sherlock...bite me!”   Sherlock blinked slowly with glazed eyes before complying, making Moriarty growl his pleasure.  
  
“What do you fear Sherlock?” Moriarty managed to gasp out and between the drug and the blood-sex it was easy to slip into Sherlock's mind and see a boy, no more than six, shut in a dark cupboard .  
  
“A world without lycans-having to endure morons without their blood getting me through” he smirked. …......................................................................................................................................................  
Sherlock watched Moriarty sleep through slitted eyes; once the drug had worn off he had done some serious thinking. Seeing Moriarty twitch he schooled his face into an acceptable expression.  
  
“Hello gorgeous” Moriarty grinned.  
  
“Don't gorgeous me; I'm not happy with you!” Sherlock scowled. “You drugged me Moriarty”  
  
“Jim. It was wrong, I know, but I wanted you...after you killed those lycans you got blood on your face and you must have swallowed some; I kissed you and you actually kissed me back so I thought that was the only way I could have you”  
  
“You just had to ask” Sherlock whispered before leaning down to press a quick kiss to Jim's lips. “Don't you dare do it again; it took me a long time to get clean...”  
  
“I understand, I had more than a passing acquaintance with opium in the 1800s. I swear it won't happen again. After all we don't need to be high to watch everything burn”  
                                                                     xxxx  
  
John lay back with a contented sigh, a slightly smug smile on his face. “Is it just me or is sex better after becoming a werewolf?”  
  
“Maybe it's just the company?, after all you didn't know me before” Irene winked.  
  
“I have definitely punched above my weight with you” John broke out into a full on grin.  
  
“So what can you tell us about vampires?” Irene asked, snuggling into John's side. “You lived with one after all”  
  
“Not for long” John snorted “And I doubt Sherlock is indicative of all vampires; he doesn't eat much, he works with humans...for humans really. He was nice, bit of a prat but nice”  
  
“I'm sure it seemed that way but remember Italy John! He killed three children”  
  
“I know, I do. So what's the plan anyway? John sighed.  
  
“We have a lycan working for us inside Gregson's stronghold; he'll be planting some bombs soon. The plan is to set them off, get in and hopefully get Gregson. We'll figure out the rest later but that will be a start”                                                                       xxxx  
  
Tobias watched Sherlock deducing a small group, Moriarty hovering protectively nearby ,with a pleased smile before going over.  
  
“So nice to see you mingling at last! Moriarty a word please”  
  
They left the room and Tobias wasted no time in asking what Sherlock feared.  
   
“Daddy dearest locked him in a cupboard for far too long” Moriarty reluctantly admitted.  
  
“Is that it?” Tobias asked surprised . “I've been un-dead for so long; I'd forgotten how humans are upset by such little things. Go and fetch him, it is time for his lessons” …......................................................................................................................................................  
“Now Sherlock; I intend, I hope, that Mycroft and yourself will join us here permanently. We are family but we are only as strong as our weakest link, and you must learn and follow our ways. I know what Mycroft has told you but I believe in daily feeding and from the source-it will make you stronger, and being young you need all the help you can get” Tobias mocked.  
  
“I don't eat from people! You already know this” Sherlock responded angrily.  
  
“I understand Sherlock, I do-you think you are doing the right thing by feeding from hospital blood bags, but for whose good?, tell me how many lives do you think you have put in jeopardy that way?”  
  
Sherlock kept silent and Tobias nodded solemnly before leaving and returning with a young slim blind-folded girl and making a go-ahead-be-my-guest gesture towards her.  
Sherlock gently embraced her whispering an apology in her ear before draining her dry, at Tobias' growled no he let go and she dropped to the floor like a wet paper towel .  
  
Moriarty laughed but Tobias was furious. “What it is wrong with you? She willingly gives blood; she is, what do you call them?” he turned to Jim.  
  
“Fang banger” he supplied.  
  
“Yes. The point is you don't kill them! Look at her; I thought you were meant to be clever with your science of deduction! You can not deduce that she is young and pretty and has people who will miss her?!. Perhaps a day locked in a coffin will give you time to think”  
  
After a trip to a park, where Tobias informed Sherlock that killing most tramps was perfectly acceptable, (after wrinkling up his nose he had done as he was told earning some praise from Tobias, until a concerned onlooker had wandered over and Sherlock had eaten them too) resulted in failure and more time spent in 'the box', Moriarty took him out alone and informed him of his plans.  
  
“I've been with Tobias for a long time but his ideas are outdated! We're the top of the fucking food chain, if you want to drain a nubile young thing dry then do it! Get rid of the lycans, bullshit, make them work for us...his days in power are over. Are you with me sexy?”                                                            
                                                                             xxxx  
“I have to leave for a bit, Tobias is sending me to talk with some Russian vampires” Jim pouted one night to Sherlock.  
  
“Take me with you! I'm not safe here...besides I'll miss you too much” Sherlock nibbled on Jim's bottom lip.  
  
“I wish I could baby. Stop distracting me a minute, got something important to say. I've noticed you don't have gifts do you? Mind-reading, suggestion, that sort of vampire thing? Well it doesn't matter but you'll have to learn to shield your mind better with out me here-a brick wall can be pulled down”  
  
“What do I do then?”  
  
“Imagine stormy waves; see them breaking up against the rocks, see the white bubbly foam. You got that picture in your head?”  
  
“Yes” Sherlock earnestly replied.  
  
“Good. Now come here and give me some memories to keep me going on my trip”                                                                     xxxx  
  
Once Moriarty was gone Tobias materialised with an unpleasant grin.  
  
“I confess I was angry and hurt when your brother left me”  he suddenly said. “He took what I had to give and then left; back to his human life, back to you. Did you know your brother had no right to turn you?  I have to give permission for that so in a way you shouldn't be here now. Not to mention the danger you caused to our kind on your murderous vacation! I could have had you hunted down for that but I waited, for Mycroft's sake, but really I have given you enough chances-you seem incapable of learning, not to mention Italy...did you think I wouldn't know about that or that I would let you get away with it? You killed children in my country!”  
  
Tobias bricked him up in the dark that day and two months later a lycan- triggered explosion set him free.


	13. 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Henry based on 80 yr old man, Thiess, who in 1692 in Livonia, testified under oath that werewolves were the hounds of god who do battle with witches and demons etc.  
> "I have said to rottenness..." Job 17:11-16 DV  
> Appolyon means angel of the deepest pit or the destroyer  
> counting blood comes from the old myths of vampires having to stop and count grains of rice etc so if you scattered them round a grave you could buy some time  
> the reason I have used silver on vampires (as opposed to werewolves) is because Judas sold Jesus out for 30 pieces of silver, some people believe that Judas was one of the early vampires...this is also possibly where the idea of vampires not having reflection comes from, as mirrors used to have a silver back or something idk lol, I do too much research for my fics...  
> also I am SO sorry! there is something on my netbook and I see it has turned certain words into ad links :( sorry.

“Where's Sherlock?” Moriarty called out as he strode towards Tobias. He had just returned from Russia and naturally he had sought Sherlock out immediately, only to find him absent.  
  
“He is...indisposed” Tobias replied nonchalantly.  
  
“What have you done to him?” Moriarty fumed “You would drop me in a second for Mycroft; all I ask is for a companion of my own, Sherlock, but you won't even give me that!”  
  
“Stop your whining a minute!” Tobias held a hand up to silence Jim “Something isn't right, I can sense it...we need to get out”  
  
“I'm not leaving without Sherlock”  
  
“Touching to be sure, but not very practical! We can come back for him later” he had barely finished speaking when several loud explosions went off simultaneously and a shower of plaster dust rained down on them. “I will not risk losing you James! Come away!”  
  
Moriarty took a look around and gave a quick nod just as someone screamed and another explosion shook the building. Together they made a hurried exit, closely followed by a stampede of vampires and humans alike.  
    
Down in the lower levels Sherlock pushed away the remaining bricks and blinked at the brightness of the light and flames. Once his eyes had adjusted he saw a girl he knew; one of a small group of donors who got food and board in exchange for blood.  
  
“Oh thank god! I thought everyone had gone” she said as she ran up to him. “What's going on? Have we been bombed?!”  Tobias was good at looking after his own so she had no fear of blood drinkers and didn't see the hunger in Sherlock's eyes until it was too late.  He was half way through his meal when he was pulled up by his hair; a sack placed over his head and silver manacles clamped to his wrists and ankles.  
  
“Got one! Caught him feeding” a gruff voice announced.  
  
“Fine, put him with the others” a female voice testily responded before asking in an angry tone if anyone had found Gregson.  
  
“No, probably ran off as soon as he could” someone said.  
  
“Shit!” the woman yelled while a man attempted to soothe her before going over to the injured girl.  
  
Sherlock found himself being swung over wide shoulders like a sack of potatoes then tossed into a van of some description with a handful of others who evidently hadn't gotten out in time.  
…....................................................................................................................  
Sherlock was pushed into a hard metal chair in front of a metal table and the sack over his head was whipped off.  Shaking his hair out of his eyes he saw a lycan with shaggy fair hair and a scar down his cheek. Being at least six foot seven and as wide as a car door, Sherlock could only imagine how intimidating his wolf form must be.  
  
“Where is Tobias Gregson?” he asked in a rough voice which informed Sherlock that he had been the one to capture him.  
  
“I don't know” Sherlock answered truthfully.  
  
“Where is your leader?”  
  
“I just told you, I don't know”  
  
“I said where. is. Tobias. Gregson” the giant wolf-man slammed Sherlock's  face into the table as he spoke.  
  
“I still don't know” Sherlock told him.  
  
“Let me put it a different way; where does he go?”  
  
The longest Sherlock could go without blood was a month, and he had been locked away for two; he was hungry and the silver was burning. The change of question confused him and he unwisely paused.  
  
“You do know something then” the lycan grinned bright “Where does the bat go? Where might he be hiding?”  
 As Sherlock's nose crunched the lycan stopped to seriously comment on how his hair really helped give him the perfect grip to slam his head into things.  
  
“I appreciate that but you might want to get it cut. Now I could bounce your head on the table all night except I'd get bored so lets move on shall we? Wait what was that?, you need to count the drops of blood do you?” the wolf mocked “You need to count your blood you piece of undead shit?! Count it then!” he gave a particularly hard shove, one large meaty hand grinding Sherlock's face into the table.  
  
Sherlock refused to give him what he wanted and the wolf released his head with sigh moving to crouch in front of him where he wiped some blood from his face with a big thumb.  
“Just tell me what I want to know”  
  
“I can't tell you what I don't know!”  
  
“You don't leave me much choice then Appolyon. I have said to rottenness: thou art my father, to worms, my mother and sister. All that I have shall go down into the deepest pit: thinkest thou that there at least I shall have rest?” he went back behind Sherlock, forcing his head back and his mouth open, and ripping out one fang with pliers.                                                         ***  
John headed down the passageway with weary steps , stopping short at the sound of an unearthly shriek which raised the hairs on the back of his neck, followed by a more animalistic grunt of pain. John jogged the rest of the way and flew into the room at the end where he saw the wolf-man had Sherlock in a head-lock.  
  
“What the hell are you doing?!” John questioned.  
  
“The scum head-butted me!”  
  
“After you pulled his teeth out! Frankly I'm not surprised, you're meant to be questioning them not torturing them! Get out now, tell Irene I want to talk to you later, and get someone to bring a bowl of hot water and some cotton pads” John ordered in his best alpha and army voice.  
  
“Sherlock” John curtly addressed, unsure of what to say.  
  
“Doctor” Sherlock replied in kind.  
  
“I see you found your...kind” John lamely supplied.  
  
“Hardly; I have no affiliations” Sherlock snorted with a grimace.  “I see you found your pack however”  
  
“Yes. Yes I suppose I did” John plainly admitted. “Is it alright if I clean up your face?” he asked after receiving the water .  
  
“You can do what you want, I'm the one who's cuffed”  
  
“I am sorry, this shouldn't have happened. I'll make sure it won't happen again” John gently washed the blood from Sherlock's face and pushed his nose back into place. “Will it grow back?” he asked as he examined the porcelain fang laying on the table.  
  
“Eventually” Sherlock shrugged suddenly weary and emotionally worn out.  
  
John tested the fangs sharpness, pressing it against his thumb like a sewing needle then sucking it when predictably the blood welled up.  
  
“Can you not play with it?” Sherlock asked, quickly looking away when John looked up.  
  
“Sorry” John hastily shoved it into his pocket with a deep flush colouring his cheeks.  
  
“Can I get you anything?”  
  
“Well since you asked, take this silver off! And I'm hungry too, but I doubt you can help with that”  
  
John hesitated so Sherlock tried his best innocent puss-in-boots eyes until he gave in, the doctor in him wincing in sympathy at the sight of the burnt blistered skin. Feeling his throat clench at Sherlock's relieved sigh he tried a joke “Why are you hungry? Don't want to get a bit soft round the middle like Mycroft?”  
  
“I'm hungry because Gregson bricked me up in a cellar! That's why I'm the last one to know where he is” Sherlock scowled.  
  
“What? Why?!” John asked flabberghasted.  
  
“I don't know; didn't follow his idea of a perfect vampire? ,Wanted Mycroft to himself?, Italy? I think it was probably all three...why did you jump out of the window that day?” Sherlock couldn't help but ask.  
  
John stared hard; had Sherlock actually sounded hurt? Offended?  
  
“I heard you and Mycroft talking...about what happened in Italy and how a war was coming...the way you both automatically knew who's side you would be on regardless of right and wrong...I knew I didn't belong there. I'm sorry, I should have told you. Sorry I took money from you too”  
  
“Just as well really, seeing as that was the day Tobias came for us. I wish things could have turned out differently, I was growing used to having you around...so what happens now? What are you going to do with me?”

“Oh I'm sure we'll find a use for you” Irene purred as she draped herself over John's shoulders. “Sherlock Holmes, long time no see”  
  
“You!” Sherlock gasped.  
  
“So you do remember me then? Colour me surprised!”  
  
“I've never forgotten your face” Sherlock murmured.  
  
“Irene maybe it would be best if I handle this?” John said quietly.  
  
“Clearly you are doing a wonderful job! Why did you take the silver off?”  
  
“Give it a rest Irene, it's not like he's going anywhere”  
  
“Lets not take the risk though” she glared at John before putting the manacles back on and smiling at Sherlock's face “Is this Henry's handiwork? Give you some bible talk did he?, bless him poor love”  
  
“He doesn't know anything so it wouldn't matter if he did get away” John reasoned.  
  
“Jim!” Sherlock suddenly blurted out. “Moriarty, you know the one who almost killed me?, he's Gregson's right hand man. He sent him to Russia to talk to some vampires there two months ago...where one is the other will be I'm sure of it”

“So?” John asked.  
  
“So Jim is rather fond of me; if you let me go chances are he'll find me then you'll find Gregson” Sherlock explained.  
                                                   Xxxx  
“Tobias won't just accept me back” Sherlock stated.  
  
“Which is why you'll be taking along the werewolf who remembered as a peace offering” Irene replied.  
  
“Lets go through the plan again?” John chipped in.  
  
“We'll go to Baker Street; Tobias most likely went to Mycroft and gave him some story about how he had no choice but to leave me behind when lycans blew the place up, for once Mycroft's irritating surveillance on me will come in handy when he sees me alive and well. Big reunion, how lucky we all are, here's Dr Watson as a good will gesture” Sherlock outlined.  
  
“Then John, you put this in their food supply and Sherlock make sure everyone drinks it, including yourself” Irene added holding up a vial of light blue liquid.  
  
“What is it?” John asked.  
  
“Just a strong sedative, it will make the vampires a little woozy and disorientated so it will be a walk in the park to waltz in and get Gregson”  
                                                   xxxx  
As it turned out Mycroft had nothing to do with it as Moriarty was waiting in a Jaguar outside Baker Street.  
  
“I knew it! I told Tobias, that Italian bastard, that you would get out and you would go back home to your violin and stuff! I just knew it” Moriarty raced out of the car and over to Sherlock with lightning speed, as happy as a child being reunited with a lost toy. “You have to believe me baby I had no idea he was going to shut you up in the dark like that! Its time soon ok? Time to say ciao. But baby you're hurt! What happened to your beautiful face? And your fang...”  
Once Jim stopped talking he noticed Sherlock's injuries and the small lycan behind him. “Was it him? Did he do it? Because if so tell me and I'll rip his fucking head off!”  
  
“It wasn't him Jim! I'm fine, I'll be fine hmm? I'm just glad we're together again...where is everyone staying now?”  
  
“At your brother's club for a bit, only 30 of us made it out” Jim glared daggers at John who stared back.  
  
“Lets go then shall we? I'm thinking you, me, and a king sized bed” Sherlock licked Jim's ear making John blush crimson again.  
…....................................................................................................................  
“Sherlock! You somehow made it out and found your way back to us, or what sadly remains of us. Perhaps you are not so useless after all” Tobias mused. “And you even brought a gift, one could almost be suspicious”  
  
“Yes paranoia does seem to come with old age” Sherlock smiled. “Jim I'm going to take the lycan downstairs”  
  
“Bring up a keg while you're there babe, we should have a toast” Jim said.  
                                                    ***  
“This is going surprisingly smoothly” John whispered to Sherlock once they were in the cellar of the Diogenes .  
  
“Don't question good luck Watson” Sherlock  prized the lid off, looking longingly at the blood inside before tipping in the contents of the vial.  
…....................................................................................................................  
John felt that something was wrong as he climbed the stairs ten minutes after Sherlock had left, as had been arranged. For a start it wasn't quiet as he would have expected it to be, instead he heard various noises of pain and gasping breath like fishes out of water. When he entered the room he knew for sure something was wrong; the barrel of blood had been knocked over, scarlet splashed everywhere, tables tipped over and curtains pulled down as though the individuals in the room had struggled to stay on their feet, grasping what ever was in reach only to fall regardless.  
  
This is not woozy and disorientated he thought to himself as everywhere vampires reached out to him seeking help of some kind, and an end to their pain. Suddenly he saw Sherlock and he rushed over to him, heart sinking at Sherlock's words and the accusation in his eyes.  
  
“I trusted you!”


	14. 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally over! I'm so so sorry it took so long, thanks so very much to those who commented and left kudos etc and I hope this isn't too much of a let down, I tried to keep out the plot holes-any questions just ask. please let me know if you spot any mistakes as this is un beated x  
> Ok edited note, I realise that this chapter does not clear everything up but I'm done with this fic so really don't want to write more, so if it wasn't clear moriarty was the one using lycans to commit crime because he may be a vampire but he's still a consulting criminal! he likes using them to do his dirty work but he doesn't consider them equal. I don't know what happened in Russia lol. I reckon Mycroft made Sherlock and john do an inteview with the sun to get a good public opinion of them before jim gets his regime going :p idk...do feel free to comment and ask me questions

John was about to bend down to Sherlock when he heard Irene enter with Henry and some others.  
  
“Kill any still living and make sure Gregson is here!” she instructed coldly. “Well done John” she smiled at him.  
  
“You fucking lied to me! This is not woozy and disorientated...their dying, their in pain and their dying! What was really in that vial?” John demanded.  
  
“I knew you would react this way, that's the only reason I lied. It's a disease that only affects vampires! Devilishly hard to find; tracked it down in Italy amusingly enough. I've been itching for a chance to try it out...it pulls all the blood from their bodies, see how it's trickling from the eyes, nose and mouth?” she pointed down to Sherlock. “Even though he doesn't need to he's trying to breathe through the pain...fascinating”  
  
“I didn't sign up for this! This is mass murder!”  
  
“This is survival of the fittest; Gregson would do the same to us and worse!” Irene defended before softening as Sherlock let out a rattling gasp. “Put him out of his misery John, even I wouldn't wish to make him suffer this long”  
  
“If you wish to live I suggest you step away from my brother” Mycroft commanded as he suddenly and majestically strode into the familiar environs of his now tainted club. Gesturing to black clad gun-toting men he made his way to Sherlock while the lycans were rounded up.  
  
“Get your filthy undead hands off me!” Irene twisted and spat like a cat as she was manhandled with the others.  
  
John had Sherlock's head cradled in his lap by the time Mycroft got there and he was surprised when he shied away from his brother.  
  
“Don't come near me My!”  
  
“It's alright Sherlock; I took the precaution of having a vaccine made some months ago, you can't hurt me brother” he gently explained as a minion appeared with a syringe which was then plunged into Sherlock's arm.  
  
“Come with me Doctor Watson” Mycroft sighed as he once again carried Sherlock out to a waiting car with John following.  
  
  
…............................................................................................................................................................

It felt to John that they had driven for hours; night had fallen by the time they stopped at a sprawling country estate that made Mycroft's gated home look like a cottage, where silence hung like thick indoor-clouds as Sherlock healed and John wondered what the hell he was doing there.  
On a damp but warm day, the day before the full moon and thus the first day of a lycan's transformation, John wondered out to the grounds to curb the restless energy and soothe the itch beneath his skin that wouldn't subside until the change. Mycroft was shut up in one of the many rooms with his assistant Anthea and Sherlock...well John had no idea where he was. His wolf carved out a path for him, following all the best scents of thick mature trees and squirrels and he smiled at the thought of the peaceful freedom he would have come night. Barely restraining himself from getting down on the floor and sniffing, John saw three headstones and curiosity got the better of him.  
“I'm sorry, I didn't know you were here” John backed up as he found Sherlock sitting in front of the graves.  
  
“Why would you? You can stay if you want, I don't mind...”  
  
“You ok?, you still look a bit peaky” John asked as he sat down.  
  
“This is where Mycroft had mummy and father buried” Sherlock ignored his question and finished arranging the lilies he had with him.  
  
“Who is this?” John wiped some moss off the last stone.  
  
“Yates. He was the butler; I killed him”  
  
“Oh” Stupidly that was all John could think off.  
  
“I sometimes think how lucky they are, lying there in the cool earth. I wish Mycroft ...never mind” Sherlock looked up at John as if suddenly seeing him. “Why are you still here? You are free to leave I'm sure”  
  
John shrugged “I'll talk to Mycroft about it later, seems like he has some reason for wanting me to be here. I'm not really sure where I can go now to be honest” John tried not to frown as the truth of that statement sunk in, and he was glad of the distraction a hard to reach itch provided him.  
  
“You look uncomfortable” Sherlock stated as John failed to reach where he needed to scratch.  
  
“I feel I dunno, prickly, before” John explained.  
  
“Let me; I'm good at massages. Well Mycroft has never complained anyway”  
  
John spluttered and coughed at the oddness of that sentence, embarrassed at himself for automatically thinking something dirty when it was surely innocent! They were brothers after all, even vampires must have boundaries?!  
  
“You have a filthy mind Doctor Watson”  
  
“Blame the wolf” John grinned “God you are good at this, right there” he groaned.  
  
“My brother has a stressful job, I helped him relax-” John hummed in uninterested agreement. “-massage didn't factor into anything else we did together”  
  
John practically yelped in surprise and Sherlock laughed his head off .  
  
“You big git” John turned around and tried tickling Sherlock which just made him laugh harder.  
  
“You can't tickle a dead person John!” he pointed out triggering John's own giggles.  
  
“I haven't laughed like that in, I can't even remember” Sherlock mused.  
  
…............................................................................................................................................................  
  
“You and your little snack-on-a-stick can stay here and rot if you want, but I'm going back home to Baker Street!” Just as John finished his transformation on the last day of the full moon, new bones sliding into place, a row erupted between the Holmes' brothers; or rather Mycroft hissed through clenched teeth and Sherlock shouted and slammed doors.  
  
“And stop holding John prisoner here, you said I had to let him go so why the change of heart?! Athena not enough for you any more?” he added.  
  
“Your problem Sherlock is that you have never been able to see the bigger picture, so wrapped up in your little bubble of 'me me me' like the spoiled brat you are...and you believe yourself to be clever; you are nothing more than a jealous child-I can see through you as easily as vellum!” Mycroft sneered.  
  
Sherlock bristled, most likely at the insult to his intellect, and John stood in front of him, growling lowly at Mycroft. Both vampires momentarily froze in surprise then Sherlock gave a victorious smile before calling John into his bedroom.  
  
                                                                 ****  
  
“What you did just now, it was... good” Sherlock spoke haltingly as he made room for John's large wolf form on the bed. “If you have nowhere else to go perhaps you would like to come back to London with me? What am I saying?, of course you don't. I'm sure miss Adler told you all about what a monster I am; she's right of course, I am, I've killed plenty of times and enjoyed it too. I'm not asking for any kindness from you or understanding, I just don't want to be alone with myself any more, does that make sense?”  
  
John huffed and put his head on Sherlock's chest.  
  
“I can't understand what you're trying to say, I never had any pets. Well I had two mice once but one escaped and mummy just about had a heart attack so I had to get rid of them, and I did try keeping a hedgehog one time, in the garden shed of course not in the house, but I have a strong suspicion that Mycroft let it out. I never had a dog. I think it could have been nice” John whined but that didn't deter Sherlock from petting him and he eventually fell asleep just like any canine being hugged by a lonely child.  
  
When he came to he found that Sherlock himself was resting, (for he didn't feel that it could be called sleep) looking for all the world like a marble statue, and he felt a sudden surge of tenderness towards him. Yes he had killed and children at that but it wasn't his fault, he had never asked to become one of the living dead feeding off of the living just as John had never asked to become a beast capable of tearing a man apart.  
  
A gentle rap at the door had John hastily grabbing a blanket but he could do no more than throw it over himself before Mycroft poked his pompous head round .  
  
“Peace at last. He pushes himself too hard so he'll most likely be out for the day” he announced as he glanced at his brother. “Lestrade is coming down tomorrow, after that you can go back to 221b with Sherlock. That is your plan isn't it?”  
  
John hesitated then nodded.  
  
“I advise you not to get too attached” Mycroft warned.  
  
“I think that's up to me actually” John replied.  
…............................................................................................................................................................  
  
“Would someone mind telling me what the hell's going on?!” Lestrade got right to the point the next day. “I've got a cell full of lycans and a gentleman's club full of dead vampires!”  
  
“Not literally I hope, that would be quite messy by now” Sherlock wrinkled up his nose at the thought.  
  
Together Sherlock and Mycroft filled both Lestrade and John in on what had been happening.  
  
“I may have been slightly wrong; the politician that John killed was minor but he was steadily rising due to the friendship he had acquired with the PM. He had some ideas for new lycan legislation, radical ideas but beneficial to the lycans if they had gone through. So you see he was deliberately chosen for the fight that night, it wasn't random at all! Gregson wanted John so that he could say here's the bad cur who killed one of your own ,oh and by the way they remember everything actually, so lets get back to our original plan of shunting them off to reservations!” Sherlock explained.  
  
“That's why I was away so much, Tobias wanted me to use my powers of suggestion on influential persons” Mycroft added.  
  
“Just because we remember doesn't make us responsible which is probably why no one has owned up about it! It's the same as sleepwalking-you're aware of what you're doing but you can't stop yourself doing it!” John threw in angrily.  
  
“The lycans will need a new leader now, I was thinking that John would be an excellent choice” Mycroft informed them silkily.  
  
“And I suppose you want to take over from Gregson?” Sherlock scoffed.  
  
“Never mind all that, none of this explains those crimes that were committed by the lycans Sherlock!” Lestrade butted in.  
  
“You're right it doesn't. Not too mention we don't know what Moriarty went to Russia for”  
  
“Sir I think you should see this” Anthea came rushing in, remote in hand “It's on every news channel”  
  
BBC 1 flicked to life and there was Jim Moriarty in a dove grey suit surrounded by press.  
  
“Most of you probably don't know that the head of the vampire community of the United Kingdom was Tobias Gregson. Our beloved leader was slain recently by a lycan pack, and as his right hand man for longer than I care to recall it has fallen to me to try and fill those shoes. Now as wonderful as he was he was sadly a man of his times and I intend to do things very differently! I understand that everyone is angry and the humans have questions, but I intend for us all to live together in harmony-I see no reason why it can't be done. I aim to have the peace talks before the war. Mark my words I will usher in a new age, a new dawn if you will” Moriarty gave an innocent boyish smile and the reporters laughed at the twilight reference.

  
“Why do I get the feeling this isn't good news?” Lestrade asked nervously.  
  
“I guess the game is on?” John turned to Sherlock.  
  
“The game is never over John”

 


End file.
